10,000 !

10,000. That number has become my obsession, invading my daytime thoughts and haunting my nighttime dreams. From the moment my feet hit the floor in the morning, I silently chant my mantra, 10,000, 10,000, 10,000. My daytime plans and activities revolve around 10,000. I nolonger own my life; the number 10,000 does. No, I haven't found a new religion and no, I don't need the money.

What I do need is to take a minimum of 10,000 steps a day. Because of my interest, a year ago, my husband gifted me with a FitBit. Aaach! What is that line, Be careful what you wish for?

For anyone who does not know what a Fitbit is ( is that possible? ), it is a small computerized wristband that measures the number of steps you walk, the quality of your sleep, the steps you climb, plus a myriad of other personal activities. Thank heavens, it cannot yet read brain activity. Fitbit's step goal is based upon the principle that the minimum number of steps we should take is a daily 10,000.

My bizarre little judgemental wristband continually eggs me on. You have only 2345 steps remaining to your goal. So? I want to scream, but pathetically live for the sole purpose of getting my FitBit to vibrate and flash 10,000. Then, like an eager child craving acceptance, I run to my synced computer to read my You Nailed It notification. I need to get a life.

When shopping, you will find me parked in the most distant, lonely out-reaches of the parking lot and returning my grocery cart to the farthest opposite drop off point. Such behaviour elicits questioning looks from most shoppers; those who knowingly nod, I can only assume also possess FitBits. Whether I know where the item is located in the store, matters not at all. I walk up and down every aisle adding ( padding? ) valuable steps. I now take three or more trips back and forth to our laundry room to disperse a small single load of clean clothes. More steps, whew!  FitBit charging? Don't walk; it doesn't count. OMG, what has become of my once efficient life?

But you swim, you argue. That should add steps. Yup! I wore my FitBit, my first FitBit, now deceased, to the pool last spring. How was I to know that a tiny computer and highly chlorinated water weren't compatible? Go figure!  Before my FitBit meltdown, it measured 3500 steps for my pool time. So add it, you say. How pathetic am I? I can mentally add the 3500 steps daily, but they won't count towards my FitBit 10,000, a vibrating wrist and You Nailed It notification. I know, I need to get a life.

That said. I can't sit here all day; enough with the blogging. I have to move. 10,000 awaits me. I'm walking to our local Blue Heron Bookstore. They must have a book on sleep walking!!